The Death of Data Tennis
by Annachan
Summary: Inui has always believed in his Tennis style. But is faith enough to make one stronger? [COMPLETE]
1. Step 1

Prince of Tennis is not my creation. This story is.

I'm not a Native english speaker/writer. Grammar mistakes and orthography errors in this text are unintentional. You may also leave a word or two as a review.

1

Practice playground.

Players scattered around. Some swinging rackets, some gathering balls, sometimes bragging, some shouting, some smiling, some smirking, some smashing, some snaking...some scratching slyly behind their glasses.

Surely Data Tennis was interesting.

He delicately closed the book, fearing his notes might be blown away by the wind.

The game was about to end, even though it had just started. As always, Tezuka had been expeditious. His glasses were gleaming under the sun and not a single sweatdrop could be seen on his face. Calm and collected, he raised and lowered his racket with straight movements that, although they look gentle, were eating his opponent's stamina. He was cooling down Kawamura's Burning Tennis with his wave-like Tezuka-zone. No matter the intensity of the fire, it would always be watered away.

Enough.

He knew this scenario very-well, having experienced it over the past three years. It was only a matter of time. Data Tennis was all about time. Time to get to know your target, time to get to know his style, time to reach his level. And surpass him.

The ball tenderly kissed the ground, sealing the pale-faced boy's victory.

He walked away from the court, already thinking of a more elaborated training menu.

"Inui...!" The vice-captain called.

Ah, he had forgotten.

"Where are you going? We're supposed to play against each other."

He adjusted his glasses.

Oishi seemed to have already recovered from his previous game.

He took a quick look at his watch.

Eight minutes and fourteen seconds. That was a new performance coming from him.

"Yes, I'm coming." he said, not wanting to sound aloof.

"Let's take court D, since Tezuka's match has already ended."

"How did yours go?"

"Huh, well... I lost..."

It wasn't surprising. Fuji was the prodigy afterall.

"...6-4." Oishi added finally.

This got him to raise an eyebrow.

Usually Fuji would win by 6-2, at least most of the time.

He turned to his opponent.

Oishi was doing small jumps, stretching his arms and massaging his wrists. He finally seized his racket, waiting for him to serve.

This was going to be an interesting match.

-

"Mwaaa I'm all worn out."

"I told you to take it easy Eiji, but you didn't listen..."

"I know, I know. But playing double against our Ochibi was so fun! I couldn't help giving all out."

"That was reckless of you..." the ever-worried vice-captain scolded.

"Mwaaa" he yawned again. "Say Inui, have you done your Japanese work already?"

"Hn, I've almost finished."

"Ah, lucky...I still have half of it undone."

Eiji looked on the verge of sleeping, his eyes ready to close. Oishi was right: he had done too much than necessary to win their match against Kawamura & Echizen.

Still, his complaining was amusing.

"I think I'll just swallow a lot of coffee and work all the night."

"It isn't a good idea. Since you're that tired, you should take a rest. Coffee would only make you even more tired tomorrow." He pointed out as an advice.

"Inui is right. You have to take some sleep."

"But, I have to do that work. Besides, I recover fast, I'll be fine." Eiji said, pouting.

Oishi paused for a second.

"Fine. I don't have much to do tonight, I'll help you with your work."

Eiji beamed.

"Myay! Let's go Oishi!"

"Ah, yes... Tomorrow Inui!"

He nodded absent-mindedly.

The door was hurriedly shut.

He proceeded to clean his glasses as the surroundings became soundless. Until he was pretty sure no one else was left, he didn't move from his seat.

Suddenly catching his towel, ball and racket, he stalked towards the exit.

It was getting late, but the streetlamps were on, so he didn't mind. As long as he had enough light to read his notes, to write down few corrections and to see the ball bounce to him.

He tested his wrists. The weighs around them weren't too heavy. He could barely feel them. Tomorrow he would adjust them. Just to make sure that next time, training will be effective in a match.

-

Canteen.

High schoolers in queue, here and there sat at a table behind large fuming trays. Chewing, drinking, swallowing, chatting or grimacing.

Some of them just never stopped working.

Mada mada dane. A certain year one would have said. But he still had to make a lot of researchs and to try a lot of strategies. His program would take some times to be archieved. He would take that time and maybe more. He cared too much about this to rush things. Patience. It was all about Patience.

That was what he thought as his eyes ate the words scribbled on the salada-covered notebook.

"Scheming again?"

Glasses raised up to reflect the brown-haired boy's smiling face.

"Hn. Not that much."

He jealously closed his book. His companion's smile didn't waver.

"I see."

He adjusted his glasses to steal a look at the newly come tray. Tomatoes, cucumber, corn and some carrots blended with a light sauce. Ultimately dietetic. He himself hadn't done better.

"Well, Itadakimasu." Fuji said.

He nodded, picking up his fork.

It didn't taste bad. It was decent for a meal. Actually, had he been the cook, he wouldn't have minded adding some more basilic. Right now, this would do.

"Eiji! watch where you're going!"

"Mwhaat?"

A faint clinking of glasses and plates.

He inwardly took note of Eiji's evergreat reflexes while Fuji waved a hand at the duo.

"Eiji, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft as usual.

"Myeah. I didn't get much sleep last night. And I haven't even finished my work. I'm so drained..."

"Maa, maa. It'll be ok after you've eaten..." Oishi said, drawing a chair.

" 'don't think so. Besides, you didn't really help yesterday, talking about Tennis and stuff..."

Oishi had gone all red. Certainly from embarassment.

"But...you weren't that much into doing your work either..." he retorted defensively.

Eiji scolded even more, rolling his tired eyes.

"That's why I asked for your help..."

No doubt Eiji was pretty down that day. Something quite understandable, considering the heavy neurones-killing work their sensei wanted them to do. He himself wasn't certain about what he had done, but at least, it was done.

"Since it's quite urgent, why not work on it together?" the team prodigy put in.

"Mweh? Fujiko-chan want to try it?"

"Well, it can't be that awful...can it?" he answered, his face serene.

Always trying to get through people's problems to give a solution. That was very much like Fuji.

"Myay! Let's WORK on it this time!"

Oishi gave a shy smile.

"Fine. Let's do it right."

Actually, that was very much like Oishi too.

-

Warm weather. Light wind. Dropping dusk.

Perfect conditions for his evening training.

Let's still take a track suit...just in case.

The following moment he was running an almost deserted alley. Right-left. Right-left. His feet had taken on his usual pace. He will have to keep it for a whole hour. He will not allow anything to break this rythm. Secretly, he was thanking Momoshiro for having shown him this peaceful country-like area of their district. Running the streets would have made him stop whenever fire was red.

Seven minutes left. He needed to find a small comfy spot to stop to. He passed by a bridge, running at the river's side, and instantly recognized the place. The trees standing in line, this leading one-side way, this abrupt ditch bordering the river's bed. And the sun diving behind the whistling leaves. Things seemed to replay all around him. For even Kaidoh was there, just like last time working on his swing.

But unlike last time, he was practising the way he had shown him. And even more: he had brought a larger towel to increase the pressure on his muscles. Maybe next time he will manage to return Kawamura's wrist-breaking Hadoukyuu.

Three minutes left. Ah, he had slowed down too early. Usually he would have already been 800m ahead. He was reflecting too much. This wasn't time to gather data.

Berating himself, he made his way to a quiet-as-abandonned park.

First, relax his muscles. Then stretch arms and legs, back and shoulders. After, he will do random exercices to reinforce his whole body's condition. This would take something among forty five minutes. Later he will jog back home. Hopefully, he'll make it before dinner.

What a fool.

He had forgotten to make himself a new menu.

He hadn't calculated the ration yet, but with this new practise he was going through, he would definitely need a lot vitamin. Which meant a lot of fruits.

He touched his pockets.

Too bad he hadn't brought any money.


	2. Step 2

2

Some people around him, one or two, some meters away, flipping pages, writing sentences, thinking ideas. Biting of lip, scratching of head, brows furrowing.

They were so much like him. All quiet, concentrated in their study. Too much like him.

He wanted to sigh, but there was this massive text in front of his glasses, preventing him even from resting. It was work, and he couldn't bear leaving work undone. Especially since this work was Chinese homework supposed to be finished one week ago.

It was all his fault after all. He had spent too much time thinking of his secret training.

Now it was time to work.

He adjusted his grip on the pencil and lowered his head towards the thick lines under his nose. Just like the others hard-workers around him, he began to scribble deep sentences on a piece of paper, stopping from time to time to test their coherence, before going further in the deciphering of what now seemed to be an old manuscript from the Ancient China.

There was this tiny neurone-breaking bit of the text remaining when someone entered the School library, closing the door with a firm push but which sounded to his sleepy hearing like a rifle. Usually he wouldn't have bothered to look whoever it was, but the closing of the door had awakened something in his memory. So he looked.

He was looking in his direction. So he nodded.

He wasn't an habitué of libraries. Usually he would work at home. This time had been an emergency case. Still, it was funny to find him there. Even funnier was his chit-chatting with the School library manager.

Should he write it down in his notebook?

As he pondered on this, he reached the pages on Fudoumine Team.

Hum. These were information he needed to verify.

Tezuka was already walking to the exit.

He stood up to catch him outside, the squeaking of his chair waking the people around him out of their reasoning sleep.

"Tezuka..."

The other only looked at him, somehow expectantly.

"How is the friendly match you've been working on doing?"

Tezuka's glasses shone with annoyance.

"There is nothing like that." he stated.

"I've heard about it."

No reaction.

"...from reliable sources." he insisted.

Tezuka for a moment seemed to be searching for his eyes.

Useless. Anyway, he was nothing like bluffing right now.

"I'm going to be late." the other boy said, leaving.

He watched him leave with his usual steady self-assured pace, smiling his devilish smile.

Information have just been proved right.

-

Sun shining hard, crushing the players with its heavy heat. Wind gone to hide under the branches, leaving them to choke. Ground scarred with small wrinkles, avidly drinking the players' sweat.

He could almost feel his body dripping with water boiled out of him. He wondered if he should remove his track suit. He didn't want to expose his weighs to everyone's look. He didn't want them to know about him working on body reinforcement. Especially since to them his Tennis was all about data.

And well, he wasn't ready to give them data about himself either. Nobody should ever hear about his training methods.

He sponged his forehead with an already damp towel.

His teammates didn't seem to have any problem with heat. Kaidoh had changed from his jersey to a sleeveless shirt, and along with his wearing no socks it almost looked like he had no sense of modesty. Kawamura and Momoshiro were more reasonable: they had only pulled their short sleeves up to their shoulders, exposing their arms to the sun.

He had never been fond of sun.

As he finally decided to kept his clothes on, shouts of surprise and excitement reached his ears.

Echizen had struck again. It seemed that he never failed to entertain people watching him.

He wanted to take a look at him. But he had someone else in mind.

"Ganbatte nee, Eiji."

"Hai-hai. I won't lose today."

That was what he heard as he reached the court.

He took both notebook and pencil of his pocket, ready to capture the upcoming data.

It was a chance Eiji was first to serve. Now he had the whole game to observe Fuji's reactions.

The latter was bending his knees slightly lower than usual. Inui instantly assumed his first foot to move would be the right one.

Eiji struck a straight shot to his opponent's right angle. The brown-haired boy could only intercept it between legs.

He watched as the ball went up, curving a little.

Eiji moved back to hit a crossed shot. Fuji shifted his right leg, as if preparing a jump.

The ball was fast. There was 87% chances it would not work.

He observed as Eiji made a fast serve and move closer to the net  for a volley, which he thought was a risky move.  Surprisingly, Fuji had also moved to the net. It wasn't like him to play like that at all. Still, the prodigy had managed to surprise his opponent and get the point.

It seemed that he too was starting to play mind games. But Eiji wasn't the type to get manipulated easily: he was as unpredictable as the direction of the wind.

He wrote some of his reflexions down.

It was once again Eiji's turn to serve. The latter hit the ball without much power, for it seriously lacked speed. No doubt he had made it on purpose. Fuji sent it back without effort, but it came back almost instantly to his side of the court.

Inui raised an eyebrow, appraisingly.

Eiji was hitting slow balls to preserve his stamina and to give himself the time to reach the ball wherever Fuji would send it. It wasn't particularly brilliant, but it was strategically perfect for his acrobatic play, especially since at the same time, he was sucking his opponent's energy.

He watched as the ball once again pierced its way to the opposite side of the net. Fuji was unexpectedly holding his racket with two hands. Could it be that he planned on smashing such a slow ball?

The ball went to hit Eiji's unprotected territory.

He replayed the action in his head once again.

Fuji had used all the top of his body to hit the ball, so it would gain some immediate speed. It was amazing how quick the prodigy was at understanding his opponent's strategy and working against. Still, the way he hit the ball was certainly pushing a lot of strenght out of his muscles. If he didn't watch out, things could turn bad for him.

Now Inui was scribbling madly in his book.

Eiji was still sending slow balls, which was useless against Fuji now. His movements were slower than before and he seemed to be struggling with returning the balls: running around must have tired his all along. In this kind of situation, his acrobatic play didn't really help a bit.

Inui adjusted his glasses as the match point was finally announced, and watched as Fuji flipped his racket in an almost horizontal position.

It could only mean one thing.

He smiled inwardly.

"Myaah...I lost again." The acrobatic player mumbled.

"You played better today."

"I'm still unable to beat you." he said, making a face.

The other player only smiled.

He closed his notebook.

To use his ultimate technique to conclude the game and crush his opponent, that was definitely Fuji's trademark.

-

Hands firmly gripping his racket, arm streched over his head, feet solidly fixed on the ground, eyes focused, he was ready to strike. Minutes passed. He didn't move. His gaze hadn't flinched a bit.

He kept observing in front of him. That wall in front of him. These marks in fronts of him, done by repeating the same move that wouldn't succeed.

His brain was getting all worked up.

This was a little illogical. He had calculated every single parameter for this move: the right angle, the speed of the ball, the position of the racket, the position of his body. It should work.

He took his notebook and flipped throught it until a very specific page. He read it over and over, as if wanting to print the diagram he had drawn on his brain.

He stood up once again, holding his racket and served towards the wall. The ball bounced on it and sprang towards his face with a slashing sound, he took a step to the left and raised his arm, knocking the furious object off his way. Rebellious, it didn't follow the accorded pattern and went flying behind him.

It failed again.

He must have miscalculated something at some point.  Maybe he needed to work on the swing again. Maybe he needed to think it over again.

He sat down and opened his reassuring green book. Taking a pen, he made a large cross on the previous diagram. There, this was the first step. Then, invading the piece of paper with several numeral operations, pouring a lot of dark ink on the immaculate page, he started to plan a new strategy to win over the evil mistake that had corrupted his results.

Several times did he adjusted the glasses on his nose, several times did he scratched his chin and frowned.

That was it. The angle of his swing wasn't precise enough. He had been working on a global estimation and now that he thought of it, it was pretty evident since the weighs on his shoulders didn't allow him to raise his arm at the correct angle.

He knew better than to mix two things knowing they would mess with each other. The parts of a training were like computer programs. They could get along with each other and make the global system work effectively. But at some point they would conflict and ruin everything.

He knew he had to work on his muscles, but he also had to work on his technique.

Now, he felt his shoulders were lighter and though he found it somehow unpleasant, he was glad he would be able to perform his secret technique at last.

He stood up, picking up a ball to serve. The ball bounced again and flew to coil itself in his hand.

It had gotten dark already.

He would be late for dinner.

-

The shrilling yet softened by the distance sound finally reached his ears. He packed his book and pencil case in his bag while some of his classmates had already reached the door. He picked his jacket up, along with his school and sport bags, then exited the room.

Straddling among the flood of students leaving their classrooms, he moved towards the stairs. Three floors to go down before he would reach the Tennis courts area, and then the locker room. There he would change before the others' arrival. Kaidoh was always the second one to come, followed closely by Fuji. Tezuka on his part was always on the court a while before everyone. How he did it? That was something he couldn't figure out. Even though he didn't know anything about the other boy's school schedule, he was still pretty sure Tezuka was attending classes like any third year. Did he have a special autorisation from Ryuzaki-sensei? It wasn't impossible.

He adjusted his glasses on his nose just to see Oishi waving a hand in his direction.

He waited for him to catch up.

"I'm glad to see you here. There is no practise today because they will be renovating the courts until tomorrow morning. I already told Eiji and since Fuji already knew it I suppose Kawamura know about it too. Right now I have some stuffs to do, so if you see anybody from the team please let him know."

He nodded slowly, thoughtful.

"Thank you very much, see you tomorrow!"

He nodded again, absentmindedly.

He turned back, walking to the stairscase, his pace steady, though his long legs made it look like he was in a hurry. As he exited the building, there were still some students around, probably first years because they all seemed quite small to him. Suddenly, out of this mass of average thirteen years-old Japanese people, a tall figure stood, holding a sportbag carelessly thrown on its back, looking like it was about to fall because of the extra weight it was carrying.

He stalked towards whoever that was.

"Kaidoh." he said.

The person turned to him.

"Huh, Inui-sempai?"

"If you are going to the courts, don't bother. Practise has been cancelled for today, they are doing some renovations."

"I know, Momoshiro told me."

He watched as the boy's face began to melt in a somehow annoyed expression. He wondered how uttering someone's name could make a person angry. He wondered even more how someone could let himself get affected by petty and unsignificant things thrown at him. Like that "Mamushi" surname. Kaidoh's reactivity to anything that had to do with Momoshiro was something he still hadn't managed to understand.

"Inui-sempai, is there something else?"

He pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Are you wearing the wrist-weights I gave you?"

"Yes, everytime, like you told me."

His eyebrows lowered a little.

"From now, everytime you will be working on your techniques, remove them. Which means whether you are practising the Boomerang Snake swing in the water or with your racket you must not have them on..."

"But, sempai..."

"...It might put a lot of strain on your muscles and result into very painful aches. Do you still feel them as much as before?"

"Not that much."

"Well, we'll add some more then. Don't forget to do some stretching after every training session."

"Yes, sempai."

"That's all I had to tell you."

The boy gave a brief nod before leaving.

He opened his bag, looking for a pen and his notebook in which he scribbled something he only knew.

"Are you two going to train together?" a voice softly said, next to him.

He silently considered the smiling face behind his glasses.

"No, I was giving him some tips for his training."

"Hn. See you tomorrow."

He stood there, in a isolated corner of the court, holding his ressourceful book, reflecting on the way to improve his own training.


	3. Step 3

3

A series of lonely courts dispatched next to each other. All separated from each other by a green barbed wire fence. All resting, still and silent. Only one of them seemed eager to play, spitting balls that kept bouncing on its surface. Along with the boy hitting them.

He took the time to pose himself, before the next yellow projectile reached his side. He returned the ball without much effort. This was barely warm-up. He still had his weighs on, yet he didn't feel them.

Before the next ball came, he walked to the machine. 1.3.0. 10. :08. -

New speed set.

He walked back to the opposite side, facing the machine, racket in hands.

The ball came to him with what he thought was still a slow motion. He raised his racket to knock it.

Nine of its kind were to come. He dismissed them with ease.

1.4.0. 10. :04. -

The ball popped out of the hole, surprising him a little. He jumped to the left, receiving it in the center of his racket. The next one came four exact seconds later, its fly uncontrolled as the machine's head kept swivelling from left to right. He had to pull on his arm to return it.

The real training was beginning.

He plunged forward to hit the projectile before it bounced on the right corner of the court. It went crashing on the other side of the court.

The next one would be at 150km/h.

He bent his knees, ready to catch whatever would dash at him.

The shot rang in the deserted court, the massive bullet passed past his guard to shake the fence behind him with in an electrifying sound.

His eyebrow jerked up on his forehead.

The next one was already coming at him, he returned it with the framework of his racket.

Pure chance. He did not rely on chance. Never.

The machine's head made a negative motion again before throwing the ball at him.

He moved his right leg forward to smack the yellow offense away, but he didn't see the other one happily dive at the other side of the court. Just as he realized his fault, another ball brushed past his face, almost knocking his glasses off.

With these kind of random trajectories, there was only one way to stay in control.

He quickly position his legs at each side of the middle line.

The next assaillant came to hit at his left. He followed its movement and sent it back to where it came. The following ball was aiming at the center. Thanks to his long legs it only took him four steps to stop it in the middle of its mischievious action.

The clicking of the machine announced the beginning of the next round.

He took a deep breath.

His body was sweating. The weighs heavily hung on to him, keeping him from increasing his speed. But he still didn't want to remove them. It wasn't time.

He would take on the 160km/h balls like this. He knew it would tired his body and especially his knees. But this was the only way he found to work on his speed. And get better results.

In an instant, ten balls would be targeting his territory, following each other by three short seconds each time. His brain was already whirling in anticipation at the idea of elaborating the appropriated strategy against the future attacks.

-

He walked away from the court of his now over match.

He took a towel out of his bag, removed his glasses as he sponged his face, only to put them back as soon as he was done. As he would usually do after a match, he started to write down various petty notes in his record book.

Like everyone, Kawamura's skills had sharpened.

It wasn't only about his power increasing. His approach of the game was different. He had grown reasonable in the way he uses his strenght, his speed and -as surprising as it may seems- his stamina.

It was true that whenever he was in Burning Mode he would shine bright with energy, but this energy would always fade away as the game went on. During their match, he had shown him this wasn't a problem to him anymore. Which -considering his powerful play- made him one serious opponent.

He adjusted his glasses.

There was no time for relaxing while in this team everyone was making his way to the top.

He removed the towel from his neck and walked to the left corner court.

"Myah, Fuji, don't you think it's a difficult situation?" Eiji asked suddenly.

"Difficult?"

"I mean, I don't know who I should cheer for...Oishi or Echizen?"

"Oh, that..."

"Oishi and I are a pair, we're supposed to support each other. But, Ochibi is so much fun to watch..." The acrobatic player mumbled for himself.

"...not to mention an interesting player." A voice said from behind.

"Myaaaah! Inui-baka! Stop popping out of nowhere, it's scary!" Eiji scolded, trying to regain his composure.

Inui shifted his gaze towards the game, acting as if he had heard nothing.

"You came to update your datas, didn't you?" Fuji's voice asked, as softly as ever.

"You're only half-right." he said, already writing.

The genius player's smile was radiating on his right cheek, like some wicked sun.

Once again, he choose to ignore that fact.

It wasn't only about his datas. It was also about checking his teammates' rate of improvement. Among all of them, Echizen was the one who had the highest rate, he could easily improve his play by 15% in one match.

Also, he felt the others regulars had been personally putting a lot of effort in their training lately. He had to be sure he wouldn't be left behind. He had to be sure his own training weighed as much as the others'.

"Eiji, are you alright?" Fuji's voice sounded worried.

"Myaaaaa I can't take it anymore. Forget about it! I'm going to do some ball-hitting alone."

Fuji sighed, amused. Then turned to the game.

Inui took a quick glance at Eiji's figure walking away, shaking with frustration.

As always, the double player was taking things dramatically.

It was Echizen's turn to serve. Which give him the occasion to check the year one's control of the twisting ball, and also to observe Oishi's reaction to this.

According to his notes concerning the rotation of the ball, there were high chances it would be returned at Echizen's left, which gave the opportunity to the other player to use his regular arm to hit the ball back.

He frowned.

Echizen had used his right arm instead.

He pushed his glasses up his nose.

For the past fifteen minutes the year one had kept running from left to right. As if he was completely underhis opponent's control.  But Oishi hadn't been using any special moves. He hadn't even pulled out his volley play. Something was strange in the way they played. It was as if neither of them wanted to win the match. It was as if both of them were inflicting themselves a handicap.

Of course.

Echizen was running so much because he intended to hit reverse shot only. He had to stay as close to the ball as possible, which at the same time allowed him to work on his stamina. And Oishi kept hitting long balls to increase his ball-control and his power. He was like testing his arms in long exchanges.

They were both considering each other like a training partner.

He threw some words in the notebook.

Still, Echizen had a great advantage over Oishi. By running round the court, he was giving him the impression he controlled the game. Therefore, the year three was most likely to be caught off-guard later on. Whether he wanted it or not, Oishi was psychologically manipulated by his opponent.

He closed his book.

It wasn't 15% this time. But 25%.

That boy was definitely full of surprises.

-

The ball thrown to the sky shamefully dropped down, feeling it couldn't reach its goal. Before it hit the rough concrete, it was once again sent towards the clouds. It had almost succeeded, until a vicious breeze pushed it away from its road, sending it tumbling and falling miserably to the ground.

He bent down to pick it up, then considered it for some minutes, his eyebrows close to each other.

He didn't understand it. He was hitting it the right way, but it kept going down the very wrong way. It kept going against his calculations. Wasn't this Tennis? There was nothing in Tennis he couldn't understand. He had learnt to understand any ball. Just by seeing one, he could easily guess where it would fall or how it would bounce. But this one ball was just absolutely unreadable. He knew how he should hit it, he knew how he wanted it to fall. It was all written down in his book: the position of his body, the angle of his arm, the grip on his racket, the speed of his swing...everything had been calculated.

Then, why wouldn't it work?

For the past twenty minutes he had been practising this move. But nothing seemed to go as planned.

He had checked his diagram at least three times already. It was perfect. It was flawless.

This was illogical.

He gripped the yellow fur tightly, his fingers sinking in the ball's flesh. This time it was thrown mercilessly to the wall. As a response, it raced towards his face with dangerous speed, but with a swing of his racket the ball was forced to change its plan. It ended choked between the barbed wires of the fence. 

For a long moment everything in the court completely froze.

Silently, the racket slipped out of his grasp to clatter on the floor. The ball went down, bouncing happily several times on the ground, mocking his failure and savouring its victory.

His left hand raised slowly to reach his right shoulder.  It travelled along it, touching here and there. Everything was fine.

Then why was his shoulder hurting so much?

He hadn't been pressuring his muscles...He knew better than that. He had only been swinging his arm to hit the ball. It was nothing more than a simple swing to hit a curved ball. Why was it affecting his body so much? Why was this training feeling so wrong?

It could only mean one single thing. It could only mean that his body wasn't simply fit for this kind of training. He had never been good when it came to technique. He had never had a strong constitution. His muscles's mass was barely useful when it came to power or speed, not to mention ball control.

The ball would never go according to his calculations, simply because his body couldn't follow his calculations. His diagram was perfect. His diagram was flawless. He only was.

He calmly adjusted his glasses on his nose. They seemed to be heavier than usual.

The ball pushed back and forth by the raging wind, his fallen racket laying dead on the ground, the still coldness of the court, this voice in his head...Everything was screaming 'let go'.

Which he did. 

-

He watched as Eiji plunged to his right, extending his arm to reach the yellow projectile. The ball flew to Momoshiro's right. Caught off-guard, he couldn't return it.

"Gotcha!"

"Ehh, your acrobatic play isn't fair..." The year two stated.

"Your play isn't easy to deal with either, and I didn't complain!" 

"Maa, maa. Let's just continue." Momoshiro said, seeing is sempai was already on hyperactive mode.

Momoshiro was right. Eiji's play was more than Tennis. It was more like a show. The way he hit the ball, the way he managed his body were both stunning and unnerving. Stunning because it was something impressive to witness and unnerving because it would always make his opponent lose concentration and therefore weaken his play. His acrobatic moves were as perfectly executed as a professionnal gymnast's, yet they perfectly fit Tennis. It was just the perfect style for someone like him who always enjoyed being in the spotlight...

"Ya-hoo! One game for me!"

...Not to mention winning.

It was Momoshiro's turn to serve and he didn't seem to be in any sort of pain. He was even smiling.

Getting thrilled and all excited because playing some though opponent. This was just like him. He wasn't a fool...just a die-hard player.

Certainly the two of them played a very different kind of Tennis. Yet each seemed to be enjoying the match as much as the other. They were beaming.

He wondered if it was the same thing for him when he was on the court. He couldn't tell. He didn't remember having enjoyed any of his matches. He didn't even remember having played a match. Playing a match implied fighting to win. He had never cared about winning. He was more interested in gathering informations. He never considered the people standing at the other side of the net as opponents. They were more like people he could collect data from. Because his tennis was all about knowing the people he was playing, to the point of becoming them...somehow. In that case, victory was the natural outcome. Maybe that was the reason why he had never bothered winning. Because strategically, his Tennis was one step ahead from the others' style.

His glasses gleamed gloomily.

But was it even Tennis? Tennis was all about releasing a positive energy through one's play, something Momoshiro, Eiji, every player would do. But the will to win, the excitement of a match, the joy of playing Tennis...those were feelings he felt he didn't know.

No, that wasn't quite true. He had always wanted to win against Tezuka and Fuji. Ever since he was a freshman. Ever since he entered Seigaku's team. But he had never managed to. No matter how much data he had, no matter how much training he had done, he just couldn't beat them...

He froze, suddenly realizing.

His data Tennis didn't work on them and it never would. Because there was more in Tennis than the angle of the swing or the speed of the ball. There was more than whatever could be registered in a notebook. There was more than whether you played with your heart or with your head.

There was something else. Something he didn't have...and would never have.


	4. Crisis

4

He allowed his hand to let go of the pencil. It fell on the table softly. His hand found his way to his hair. He ruffled through it slowly, listening.

Their sensei kept talking, professing in a language that wasn't her's. The motions of her lips were too obvious to feel natural. Her pronounciation sounded too unnatural to be right. Her japanenglish teaching was hurting their ears. And even worse, Time didn't seem to be running.

He took a quick look at his wristwatch.

There was ten minutes left before the end of the class. Only ten minutes before he went to practise.

He shouldn't be in a hurry. The court was the last place he wanted to be. Because he felt he didn't belong there. He was nothing like a Tennis player.

The scream of the bell rang up in his ears, yelling at him to go to practise, before it slowly faded away. Only its murmur remained in his head, like a tiny voice, repeating again and again, like a mantra what used to be his motto: "Practise makes stronger".

He adjusted his glasses.

The room was already half-empty. Surely many of his classmates were down the stairs, already running to wherever they wanted or had to go. He also should have been already down stairs, heading to the Tennis club locker room. He didn't want to go there. He wanted to go home and forget about that tiny reproachful voice in his head. He wanted to forget about practise, about Tezuka, about Tennis. He wanted to forget about all his data, to drown his head in to some bucket full of his infamous juice and never recall he used to be a part of Seigaku's team.

No. Now he should really be going. He had always been the first to step in the locker room. He couldn't let anyone step in the locker room before him. He wouldn't give anyone a reason to think there was something wrong with him. Because it only concerned him, and no one else.

He increased his pace.

His sportbag felt heavier than usual on his shoulder. His eyes had trouble focusing behind his glasses, and even his hands weighed so much they were about detaching themselves from his body. He had to struggle to keep his legs from messing with eachother.

He only hoped he wouldn't mess up anything during practise. He wasn't someone who would make himself noticeable to anyone. But if he were to act different than usual, he was bound to be harassed by a worried Oishi, a curious Eiji or a sly Fuji.

And he knew how incredibly annoying the three of them could be.

-

He adjusted his sportbag's weight on his shoulder.

The building's entrance was only few meters ahead now. The surroundings were silent, the students having already deserted the area. The noise of the near-by street could not even be heard, neither could the sound of the usual wednesday's sweeping.

He increased his pace, not wanting to let doubts grasp him before he reached the door. He raised his hand to turn the knob, but it withdrew away from his reach.

He watched, his left brow up on his forehead, as Mizuki revealed himself to him.

"Oh, Hello Inui."

"Hello..." He said, stepping away from the player's way.

"If I scared you, I'm very sorry about it." St Rudolph's manager said, coyly.

"It's okay."

"Well then, see you around."

"Around?" He unvoluntarily tilted his head.

St Rudolph's High School wasn't particularly "around" Seigaku High. Beside that, the guy was giving him one of his mysterious expressions he was so famous for.

"Yes." Mizuki smiled.

'Gross' was the word that came to illustrate the situation his mind. He didn't know why, but the guy's smile looked a way too teasing. And he wasn't the type to let anyone play with him.

He kept the expectant look on his face, instead of showing the growing annoyance in him.

"It's too bad things came up this way..." the other boy started, twisting a strand of his hair with his finger. "I would have enjoyed facing you, as a player..."

"As a player?" he frowned even more.

Mizuki's smile appeared again, this time even more intriguing.

"That's very unlike you to forget about such things, Inui-kun."

He was taken aback. Yet he didn't show a bit of it.

"...But well, I suppose I don't know that much about you at all."

His features didn't move.

"It depends on what you want to know." he replied.

Mizuki smirked.

"Let's say I am quite a revengeful guy. Last time, during the prefectural Tournament, I lost against you. Or rather, the team I was managing lost against yours. I'm only looking for a rematch...a real match this time."

So Mizuki wanted to test his strenght. He wanted to know what kind of player he was.

He looked at the other boy.

He was still smiling, but his face was a little shadowed.

Maybe their being both player and manager had developped a sort of natural rivalry between them. Mizuki was the kind of guy that absolutely hated to lose, which made the situation clearly understandable. Still, such an it be that he feared him?

He could have laughed.

That was a stupid thing to think. He didn't have that mysterious aura people like Tezuka or Fuji had and that made them intimidating. He was barely noticeable within the team. He even wondered how could Mizuki bother himself with someone like him. He had nothing of the great Tennis player, neither the charisma, nor the skills.

"I see." he finally said.

"I'll make sure we play one day...in an official match." Mizuki announced, a defiant smile on his lips.

Inui watched his slim figure walk away.

He wasn't thrilled. He wasn't afraid.

He simply didn't care.

"Inui." the firm voice of his captain came to his ears.

He turned to him.

"Hello Tezuka."

"What are you doing here?"

Ah yes. He was supposed to be practising with the others on the courts.

He leveled his gaze to the other boy's. The latter was waiting for his answer, a severe glint in his eyes.

Surely he would make him run laps, no matter the reason of his skipping practise...so it didn't make any difference. Anyway, he never intended to tell him he had come to tell Ryuzaki-sensei his decision to leave the team.

"I have just met Mizuki from St Rudolph..." he said flatly.

Tezuka only looked at him in a way that seemed tinted with anger. It was clear that he knew Inui was trying to drive him away from the subject.

"...He said some things I didn't catch and that I think you can help me understand better." he finished.

"Are you skipping practise?" Tezuka asked, imperious.

"Not quite. I was only gathering some information around." he paused. "How many teams do you and Ryuzaki-sensei plan on gathering to play against us?"

"..."

"I see." He said, half-heartedly.

He didn't care that much about it in fact. Whether they played Fudoumine or St Rudolph or even Hyotei, he didn't feel concerned at all. Tennis didn't matter to him anymore.

-

He slowly walked towards his sportbag, his face unreadable, his steps assured.

His match against Fuji had just ended. Almost a draw. 7-5.

Usually, he would have been eager to write this down in his notebook. He would have smiled inwardly, happy about the new data on the prodigy. Usually he would have given all he had to steal a victory from the brown-haired boy. Usually he would have felt disappointment at his close win. And Usually he would have boosted his spirits up with a brand new training menu.

He sighed.

His limbs were heavy. His throat was a little dry.

He sat down on the bench to rest his body.

It wasn't until five minutes later that he noticed the area has been completely deserted. The other players had all gathered near court D, their bodies stilled by the distance.

He stood up and walked to them.

Sounds of bouncing balls gradually reached him, as well as the murmurs of the growing audience. The players' figures shaped into a very focused Momoshiro and an exasperated Kaidoh. Between them, close to the net, Kikumaru's high-pitched voice kept announcing the points in the typical referee way.

This felt like a really heated match.

He took a halt in his walking, stopping a meter away from the scene. He couldn't have gone closer anyway, because most of the Freshmen and Juniors were blocking his way. All of them watching, amazed.

So he turned his eyes to the two players.

Hands gripping his racket, it was Momoshiro's turn to serve. He threw the ball very high in the air and jumped to hit it with full force. The speeding ball bounced on the ground, heading towards Kaidoh's face. He hit it with what seemed to be all the power he had, Momoshiro had to take a step back to strike. The ball flew higher above the net, surprising his opponent by its speed.

"30 all!" Eiji announced.

He didn't know when the match had started. He didn't even know what the score was at the moment. But he had the feeling it had been going this very tight way from the beginning.

They were both all sweating, their jerseys soaked, their forehead weeping, surely eager to be released from the stress of the match and yet struggling to win.

"30-40!"

Kaidoh's point, right after Momoshiro's one.

"40 all!"

Yet another point for Momoshiro.

He could have smirked.

There seemed to be a fierce battle going on between the two sophomores, which wasn't surprising at all. They were both known as rivals in the team and even in the whole school.

"Game Kaidoh. 5 games all!"

But there seemed to be more than that.

As he watched them play, he couldn't help but notice that their Tennis way were pretty similar.

Deeply, Momoshiro was a die-hard Tennis player: he would always make sure both to enjoy the game and to catch a victory. No matter the situation or the difficulties, he never let anything stand in front of his way. He would always try to find a way to overcome any obstacle...which he did, most of the time. As for Kaidoh, he never allowed anything to disturb his concentration nor break his determination. Once set on a match, he would make sure to win, no matter how strong his opponent was. The guy was all about winning, and this clearly made him the most passionate player in the Team.

He adjusted his glasses.

Sure, their Tennis style were pretty similar. But their skills were not.

It was pretty evident that Momoshiro had quite a potential in him. But Kaidoh...

He looked down at his hands.

Tennis wasn't all about passion. The outcome of the match was already decided.

-

"Are you feeling better?" a voice asked softly behind him.

Fuji wasn't smiling. His face looked serious.

"Why do you ask?"

"You always do that..." Fuji said.

"Do what?"

"You ask a question instead of answering. Most of the time it's because you have something to hide." the prodigy stated.

He frowned behind his glasses.

Had he let any of his bitter thoughts slip out of his body during their match?

"I'm fine. And I have nothing to hide, Fuji." He finally answered.

The other boy considered his blank face for some seconds before breaking into his trademark wide smile and turning to the match.

Fuji's attention wasn't on him anymore. He was glad about it. Still, the number two of seigaku remained next to him, preventing him from going anywhere, unless he had a good reason to give him. Everyone seemed to be so much into the ongoing match that it would definitely be strange if he were to leave the place before it ended.

He had lost the trail of game during his little chat with Fuji. He only knew it was Kaidoh's turn to serve, but judging by the junior's clenched jaw, he could tell he had lost the first points. And he looked about losing the upcoming ones.

Momoshiro's ball seemed to have gain a little more power in this round and even Kaidoh's reptile-like reflexes couldn't take on it. He was struggling to control his shots and with the current speed of the ball, both Snake and Boomerang Snake were out of question.

Once again, Momoshiro had found the weak point.

"15-40!"

There it was. Match point for Momoshiro.

Kaidoh's racket hit the ball without much conviction. It almost toppled over before reaching the opposite side of the court, but the other player easily cheered it up with a bit of speed. Kaidoh sent it back with all the power he had, making the ball swirl in a whizzing sound towards his opponent.

No doubt Momoshiro would jump on the occasion. No doubt he would conclude with his Jack Knife.

Inui shifted his foot to turn away from the game. He paused, baffled.

He almost removed his glasses, for he simply couldn't believe his eyes.

"...err...30-40!"

The position of his knees, the angle of his swing, the movement of the ball, swift and precise...

He stared, his eyes blank, his hands shaking.

Kaidoh's move was the perfect concretization of the drawing in his book.


	5. Rebirth

5

A swift zipping sound.

He pushed his bag in the locker with a fierce movement of his hand, then took a look at his watch.

His classes had ended earlier that usual. He still had to wait before the others's arrival.

He sat down on the bench, his shoulders down, his glasses reflecting the immaculate floor.

Even after having spent the whole night thinking, he still couldn't find a way to do what he had to do. He had thought about severals possibilities, but they all sounded a little rash, somehow. He wasn't the kind of person that would do something without giving it a second thought. Especially if the "something" felt important to him. Still, it was something that had to be done. And quick.

The door clicked open.

He instantly stood up, as if he had been waiting for the newcomer.

"Kaidoh."

The Year two slowly turned to him, his face carrying both anger and bitterness. No doubt he still had the memory of his match against Momoshiro in mind.

Somehow, he understood how he felt, afterall, he had always losed his matchs against Tezuka. And even though he had never shown it to anyone, he had felt that feeling, that feeling of extreme disappointment. The feeling someone would get after working hard on something and yet fail at it.

But there was something else in the other boy's eyes. Something like pain. And it suddenly seemed to him that Kaidoh was on the verge of crying.

No, he could never understand how the year-two was feeling at the moment. There had never been any kind of rivalry between him and Tezuka, simply because Tezuka had always been on a higher level. Rivalry could only exist between people who consider eachother as equal. He had never had the privilege to be acknowledged by Tezuka as a worthy rival. Unlike Kaidoh, he couldn't say he had lost against the very person he must never lose to.

He watched as the younger boy turned away to reach his locker.

"Kaidoh." he called again.

"What do you want, Inui-sempai?" was the Year-two answer.

"Would you like me to help you with your training?"

"You are already helping enough, Inui-sempai."

He adjusted his glasses, as his teammate kept rumaging in his sportbag.

"I meant, would you allow me to personally train you?" he corrected.

"No." came Kaidoh's instant reply.

He almost smiled.

It was just as he imagined it would be. Kaidoh hated to receive someone's help, mostly because he didn't want to owe anything to anyone, but also because he had a certain opinion of himself that he couldn't bear to see shattered. The guy was all about solo work, and it was already a miracle itself that he had accepted Inui's frequent advices for his training.

For the second time, Inui adjusted his glasses on his nose.

Well, he just had to force a miracle once again.

"That move you did yesterday..."

Kaidoh facevaulted, his brows furrowed in both curiousity and annoyance.

"...I can help you master it." Inui finished.

He watched as a flicker of surprise passed across the other boy's eyes.

What was coming next? He had no idea. He just waited there, as expectant as Kaidoh was frozen.

"Hello, you two." a distant voice greeted.

Either Fuji had purposedly made a soundless entrance, either he hadn't paid attention to the surrounding, for he didn't hear him push the door open. And judging from his caught-off-guard look, neither did Kaidoh.

His eyes met the Junior's.

The latter hissed in his typical snake-way.

5

He sat at the table, in the half deserted wide room. Most of the Year-ones were missing, for it was Wednesday and except those who had club activities in the afternoon, none of them ate at the School Canteen.

He took a glance at his far away tray. The food it carried didn't look bad, but he wouldn't eat it. He wasn't hungry, or rather, he was already busy with another activity.

He calmly flipped the pages of his green book, skipping many notes as he did so, as if looking for something in particular. He stopped as the name finally caught his eyes and rested his notebook on the table, getting himself ready to read the page's contents.

"Oi! Inui!" someone called from a far.

He raised his head just to see Eiji and Fuji walking to him.

He closed his book and waited for them to sat in front of him.

"We have been looking for you for a while." The red haired boy said. " 'Didn't know you eat there on Wednesday...why not bring a Bento and eat with us outta there?" He paused seeing the ever full tray. "Ehh, Onigiri! Can I have one?" he asked, pleading.

Inui motioned him to take as much as he wanted.

Fuji watched all this, amused and even when he turned to Inui never did his expression change.

"I hope we are not disturbing you." he said, taking a swift look at the green book.

"Not really." He answered, putting his notebook back in his bag. "So, what is it?"

"Well, we are going to the Game center this Sunday and we wondered if you would like to hang around."

"Myeah! I want to try Motor GP Tournament and it isn't fun when there are few people to play." Eiji put in while eating, making some rice grains escape from his mouth.

Inui shook his head.

The acrobatic player dropped his onigiri ball.

"Myaa? you can't...?!"

"I have some things to do." he said flatly, his translucent gaze unwavered.

"But, I thought you like those games. Besides, everyone is coming..."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone?"

"Myeah. Even Tezuka is!" Eiji exclaimed.

"Hmm, not everyone. Kaidoh declined, remember?" Fuji pointed out.

The other player frowned, chewing.

"Oh yeah...I forgot." He answered, pouting a little.

"Well, I can't come either." Inui stated.

Fuji's eyes sharpened.

"Inui." he called, serious.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a date or something?"

His face remained impassive.

"Ehh?!" Kikumaru exclaimed. "That could explain it..." he thought out loud, giving Inui a curious glance.

The data specialist shook his head.

Fuji's smile reappeared on his face.

"Hn. It can't be helped then." he stood up "Later."

"Hmm, that was good. Thanks a lot and see you!"

He nodded to them as they both left his table.

He liked to hang in the Game Center from time to time, after school, sometimes during week-end or holidays. But this very Sunday, he simply couldn't. Because this Sunday he was to meet Kaidoh, and train with him. Or rather, train him.

He sighed as his glasses reflected his notebook.

He still had the training menu to do. It was the most troublesome part of a training, but it also was the most important one.

He opened his book again, searching for Kaidoh's data.

Three pages of scribblings regarding the Year two's physical form, techniques and matchs. It was little, compared to the twenty pages he had written on Tezuka or the thirteen he had written on Fuji. But he would certainly get to increase this poor number during the upcoming weeks.

This time for sure, he would make the best out of them.

5

00:20:57

He lowered his arm to rest it on his knee. Then he stood up and proceed to walk around, so his muscles wouldn't cool down.

The place was very much secluded. There weren't even five people, and each of them seemed ready to leave. Just an old man dressed in a business way carrying a small wallet, a young boy around eleven years old and a young woman packing back the rest of their pique-nique.

He kept walking, here and there on his toes, to work on his heels at the same time.

00:25:33

He stopped under the tree where his sportsbag remained. He picked up a white fabric and started to clean his glasses.

The old man was gone. The young woman and the boy were already far away, on the road. He was very alone at that moment, until sound of footsteps started to echoe in the liveless place.

He picked up a towel and handed it to the newcomer.

"Huh, thank you." the person simply said.

"Twenty-six minutes and seventeen seconds." he spoke out loud "You have improved a lot since last time."

The other boy remained silent, still wiping the sweat away from his face.

He took out a notebook: it's cover was orange-yellow and had "K.K. Program" written on it in handwritten characters. On the side, a black pencil was hanging, securely attached with an orange strap.

"So, where did we stop last time..." he mumbled, opening the book.

His companion had already started his stretching exercices. He bent down, his hands reaching for the ground, while his legs remained perfectly still. After remaining like this for some good five minutes, he sat down, pushing his upper body forward until his hands caught his feet.

Inui watched this closely as he went through the filled pages of the book, and it seemed that he was reading with his fingers.

"Next are push-ups." he announced finally, after a silent while.

The other boy didn't bother answering.

Both kneeled on the ground and started to count in their head.

The first one to stop was Inui. He zipped his bag closed and quietly left the place. A minute later, the Junior was following him. Quite quickly, they stepped in the local Tennis court. It wasn't the best court of the region at all: the wire fences were brownish-grey, which clearly indicated that it hadn't been renovated for years. The ground surely once shining green was all yellow, burn through the months of heavy heat. The white lines had disappeared and the net was all over covered with variously shaped holes.

"Let's get started." he said, laying his bag on the desiccated ground.

"Inui-sempai, I didn't bring a racket."

He paused and turned to face his companion.

"Who said you needed one?"

Kaidoh's features hardened with incomprehension.

"What is this about?" he asked, trying to contain his annoyance.

Inui barely reacted at the tone of his voice. Even after two weeks of common practice the boy wasn't entirely happy about the choice he had made. From time to time, he would get angry, on the verge of exploding. Inui was perfectly aware of his uncertaincies and inner struggle. Afterall, Kaidoh wasn't keen on pairing up with someone, even if it was for his own benefits...which Inui still had to prove.

"I'm going to serve and you will have to catch the balls with bare hands. I'll gradually increase the speed and the power of the ball, so it would be better if you watch closely." Inui said, moving away.

"Ssss..." was the reply he got.

By the time he reached the other side of the court Kaidoh was already waiting for him to serve.

The ball was sent quite vigourously to the Year two's part of the court, it hit the ground and bounced towards the wire-fence which it embraced without much trouble.

Inui lowered his racket, watching Kaidoh's stretched arm. His hands had came a quarter of a second later and totally missed the yellow projectile. But his missing wasn't only because of bad timing, it was also because of the imprecision of his movements. There seemed to be few coordination between his elbow and his hand, which was quite understandable: with a racket in he didn't really have to bother about catching the ball, but barehanded, he had to make sure his hand would be on the right trajectory at the right Time.

His mouth curved a little.

This sure was the best way for Kaidoh to work on his speed and on his reflexes at the same time, not to mention his capacity of anticipation.

He caught the ball that was thrown to him and readied himself to serve.

Somehow, this was going to be fun.


	6. New goal

6

"...6 games to 2." the referee announced.

He calmly exited the court.

There was another match coming after theirs and practice was almost over: they had no time to waste. Not that he had actually screwed his match against Tezuka on purpose. No. He just wasn't in the mood to play.

Or rather, his head had been busy with various datas bugging it. And none of them had anything to do with his opponents.

As he extended his hand to reach his sportbag, he caught a glance of two pairs of foot on his right. He nevertheless kept on with his movement, caught his towel and covered his whole face with the green cloth.

"Inui, are you feeling alright?"

He almost smiled at the note of worry in Eiji's voice.

No doubt they all thought Tezuka's crushing victory had shaken him. It was true that back in the past, he used to scold himself whenever he would let their captain win by 6 games to 1 or even 2. He even remember promising himself never to let these two situations ever happen again. And he had kept that promise all along the years, as a freshmen, as a sophomore and as a senior. Until this very day.

No wonder Eiji and Oishi looked both surprised and compassionate. Because in a way it felt like he, Inui, had failed in his goal once again, and failed hard.

But there was no failure, simply because he did not care the least: Past was past and right now he had another goal. He had different dreams.

"Inui...?"

"I'm fine." he said removing the towel.

The two Year three were staring at him, their eyes attentive to any display of sadness or breakdown. But they did never find anything, first because Inui wasn't feeling anything like disappointed or depressed and second because Inui was very well known for his absolute self-control.

"Ah, but if you want to talk...I'm here." Oishi said, in his typical motherly style.

"Yeah, me too..."

He only nodded at them.

"Well, it seems that Echizen's match against Takashi is almost over..." the vice-captain announced.

"Hum." Eiji nodded. "We are playing next, right?"

"Yes...See you later Inui."

It wasn't until they were far away that he took his orange notebook and started writing down whatever had been on his mind. There were still a lot of things he had to elaborate for the training menu and he even missed some datas about the year-two, especially those which concerned his physical condition, but he wasn't some sort of Medical: there was no way he could get these infos.

He paused.

Well, maybe he would just have to ask the Junior about it, and hope the latter would answer him.

He closed the book and checked on the time.

Kaidoh was to play Fuji on court B in some minutes, depending on how long the Momoshiro-Arai match would last. And right now, he was nowhere to be found.

He was certainly off somewhere for an extra preparation.

Inui smiled at his own statement.

Maybe he had collected TOO MUCH data on the Year two already.

6

He pulled the door open and entered the administrative building of the school. From the hall, he could hear voices chatting loudly, sometimes laughing in a sort of chorus, and he even recognized the very high-pitched voice of his English teacher. As he went further in the corridor, he saw and smelled the smoke emanating from the Teachers' smoking restroom, for its door wasn't completely shut.

He hurried his pace a little and soon reached the stairs.

Climbing them one by one in his typical steady step, he was surprised to find the first-floor almost desert. Usually, there would have been five or seven students waiting for the Headmaster's secretary to allow them in. He recalled when he came there a week ago he had had to wait something like half an hour to get the random documents and the University application forms he needed.

He stopped in front of a grey wooden door.

There were no sound coming out and for a moment he thought no one was in.

He nevertheless knocked.

"Come in." Coach Ryuzaki's cavernous voice answered.

He stepped in.

She seemed to be in the middle of some work: there were a lot of paper scattered on her desk and a strong heat was emanating from her computer, which clearly indicated that she had been using it non-stop for hours.

"Ah, Inui...What is it?"

He stopped halfway in front of her.

She was looking at him expectantly and he suddenly felt ill-at-ease. He had all her attention for sure, but he had no idea how to put in words what he had come to ask her. He didn't want her to become anything like suspicious towards him and particularly towards his recent Tennis matches results. He didn't want her to discover that somehow, he had lost interest in playing Tennis, because he still belonged to the team, a team that she managed, a team that she wanted to be deeply involved in the matches it played.

"Ryuzaki-sensei, how did you know that you wanted to become a coach?" he asked, bluntly.

The woman frowned, a little surprised.

Certainly she didn't expect something like that from him. He wasn't the time of person who would come to anyone and ask for advice. He very much relied on himself for everything. And usually, when he pushed the door of their coach's office, it was either to give her random informations he thought she might be interested in, or to demand some special arrangements in the team for an upcoming match. Like that time he asked to be paired up with Kaidoh against Ohtori and Shishido from Hyotei High.

"Well, that's not something you can answer straight." she remove her glasses. "I recall that I used to play Tennis and that I liked it very much. But at some point of my career I think I found out my body couldn't go further and I started to think that maybe I wasn't made for the game."

She paused for some seconds, maybe pondering on what to say next.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not like I didn't want to make any efforts anymore. In fact, all along those years I played, I had been improving and getting better and better...But just one day, I realized I wasn't getting anywere. You play, you get hurt, you start to play again, but one day, you will just have to stop. That's what I did."

Inui was still listening, so she continued.

"I loved Tennis and I had dedicated my whole life until then to it. I could still play from time to time, but there wouldn't have been any kind of thrilling feeling you get on official match. But what could I do? I had stopped everything...Then I fell upon Echizen Nanjirou playing in a court against some kids."

She took a glance at him to observe his reaction. Inui's brows were curved in an expression of deep attention and genuine curiosity.

"He was a Junior back then, and even though the other kids were two or three years older than him, he beat them in a row. Just by watching him play, I got that feeling back again and even more: it occured to me that he wasn't only good at Tennis, or even talented...he was a genius, a real one." she sighed "Well, that's how I started to train him. I wasn't much of a coach at the beginning, I just knew Tennis quite good. Still, as years passed I guess I learned and became one...and I'm still learning."

He adjusted his glasses.

"Hum. So it wasn't all decided at all..."

"If you want to know if ever since I started to play Tennis I wanted to become a coach, the answer is no. If I hadn't met Echizen-kun I think I would be rooting somewhere, far away from Tennis courts. Not every Tennis player get into coaching, Inui."

He nodded understandingly.

"It depends if you feel ready to do it or not and if you feel ready to take the responsability of people's future. In fact, coaching is pretty much like teaching in a school for special students." she concluded.

"But, how do you know when it's time to let go of your students?"

"Oh, that's easy to answer. You let go of your students when you feel you've teached them all the things that you could possibly teach them. The rest is up to them..." She said, smiling.

"I understand. Thank you very much, Ryuzaki-sensei". He said, bowing.

"You're very much welcome, Inui-kun."

6

"Oh, Kaidoh..." He said, caught of guard.

He was early, and Kaidoh being earlier than him was unusual. As much as the junior liked Tennis, he rarely left his classroom before classes effectively ended.

"...Aren't you supposed to be..."

"Sensei is sick." The Year two cut in.

"Hum, I see."

Inui walked to his locker and dropped his sportbag on the bench. Opening it, he proceeded to look for his keys, careful not to mess his jersey.

"Inui-sempai..."

"Yes?" he answered without looking at the other boy, as he finally found his keys.

"I think you should stop coaching me."

He almost dropped his keys, but still managed to grasp them before they escape from his hands.

"Why?" he asked, still facing his locker.

There was a short beat.

"It's doing you no good." Kaidoh stated.

Inui almost burst in laughing at this.

Of course the Year two wouldn't know. He wouldn't know how much and how long he had struggled to finally find something that was more like him. He wouldn't know what he had been through from that first day he started doubting his Tennis play, to this very day he found out he was taking the wrong path. He wouldn't know that he had spent a long time thinking about how he should start things over, and thinking about what he really liked in Tennis over, if he even liked Tennis. He wouldn't know about those moments of inner fights, those moments of intense pain, those very moments that made him realize what he truly wanted. Those moments that made him understand that his Data Tennis was all wrong, and that Data Coaching was the right path his love for Tennis should have taken since the beginning. Because since the beginning he had been trying to push past what was already his limits without much success.

"I know what I'm doing." was his flat reply.

"I will never accept someone sacrifying himself for me, Inui-sempai!" Kaidoh shouted out of sudden.

This time Inui was forced to facevault.

"How come?" the Senior asked, his tone ever so flat.

The other boy's eyebrows furrowed even more in both contained anger and what seemed to be surprise. His eyes started to wander around the room. Certainly he was feeling guilty for yelling at someone he was supposed to respect.

Inui looked at him, his blank face carrying unwavering thick glasses, waiting for some explanations.

"You're not playing as good a you used to do, Inui-sempai." he paused. "...Ever since you started to train with me. That match you played against Tezuka-buchou a week ago was...it didn't feel anything like you. And when you played Fuji-sempai yesterday, it was...wrong."

The sophomore took a deep breath.

"Don't cut off your own training because you want to help me with mine. If you were to become a bad player because of me, I wouldn't like that."

Inui's hand on his side started to play with the keys.

So Kaidoh was feeling guilty for his lack of results...That was something a little unusual. The Year two as far as he remember rarely felt anything for anybody except annoyance, or anger. He wasn't the kind of person to worry on someone else's play or condition....unless it had something to do with him. Like that time his great rival Momoshiro was "screwing around" -as Kaidoh nicely put it- against Sengoku from Yamabuki High.

The keys kept dancing between Inui's hand, as silence calmly settled in the room.

Come to think of it, they were the same, in a way. He, Inui, didn't recall having any kind of relationship with Kaidoh before that day they played double. They had never really talked to each other, they even barely greeted each other in the corridors. Inui didn't know how it all started. He only knew that one day he needed the other guy to play a match, and that he ended up helping him with his training...But what a change from today. Now, he had become his personal coach, and somehow, they had gotten to know eachother.

Well, maybe Kaidoh's worrying over his play wasn't so weird as it seemed.

"You don't have to worry about that." he said.

Kaidoh's face swiftly changed from its tanned complexion to a quite bright red.

Inui could help but smile.

He could perfectly understand the other boy's embarassment and annoyance.

Kaidoh would simply never admit he worried about anyone. At least, not openly, but Inui had just unfolded the meaning behind his previous words. And he had done even worse. He had made sure the Junior could neither retaliate nor deny, because answering back would be disrespectful, and because telling his sempai he was wrong would seem totally ungrateful...afterall, Inui had always been the one helping him.

"Maa, maa...it's fine." he turned back to his locker, keys in hand.

"But...your play is..."

"Just because I play lighter than usual doesn't mean I've become bad." Inui stated, opening his locker.

"...I see." Kaidoh mumbled apologizingly.

For a moment, none of them spoke more.

"Kaidoh, I have to go somewhere tomorrow, so here are your exercices for the day." he handed the other boy a piece of paper, filled with handwritten characters. "Make sure to do all of them, in this very order. After you're done with them, you can start practising that move I showed you last time..."

The Year two nodded, his face ever-serious.

He folded the paper and put it in his sportbag's left pocket. Taking his racket and towel along with a bottle of water, he slowly exited the room.

Five minutes later, Inui was doing the same.

6

TBC...


	7. The end has no end

7

Shouts kept getting higher and higher, struggling to reach the sky. From left to right, they all carried differents voices and differents words, but all of them encouraging their respectives players. And even if there was no flag swaying up in the air, the whole scene very much felt like a battlefield in which four warriors, faces dark and hands clutched on their weapons were fighting to win.

The match between Seigaku and Fudoumine Tennis teams had turned more heated than expected.

Inui stood close to Seigaku's headquarters along with his fellows comrades, watching the fight from the distance, his attention never missing any shot.

The Kamio-Ibu pair had gotten better than the last time the team had played them. It wasn't only about their improving individualy, even if Kamio seemed to have sharpened his rythm sense. The player was doing everything but useless moves: his steps were measured, his swing precise, his shots straight. Everything in his play was calculated so as not to waste any energy. As for Ibu, he seemed a lot more involved in the game, much reactive than the previous time and also more determined. It was obvious they had worked hard on their coordination and together, they had become fearsome opponents.

He turned his gaze to the other pair and almost smirked at the situation.

It wasn't the first time Momoshiro was to be paired with Kaidoh. They had already played doubles together, not so long ago. At that time, he had thought they were quite nicely matched, even if they kept yelling at each other and scolding each other for their mistakes.

Today was a completely different story.

It wasn't that they were on the verge of tearing eachother's throat, they had barely spoken at eachother. Momoshiro was playing his usual hard game on their opponents, smashing as much as he could, taking risks in some action and anticipating the counterattack like the tactician he had become. As for Kaidoh, his techniques had never felt so effective as in this very day, corrupting Kamio's rythm and by the same time demolishing the other pair's play.

Inui's eyebrows furrowed.

But there was more than that. Besides the obvious alchemy between the two players, there was something else. Something that radiated from their moves and intensified their respective play. Something that made them shine brightly from the court and in the very middle of the day.

Their passion for Tennis was surely what had brought them together and made them the beautiful pair they had become.

"Three games all."

Still, their opponents weren't bad either.

Kamio was starting to pressure Kaidoh with his long and swift shots at the rear, and the Seigaku player somehow, was slow at reacting. As for Ibu, he covered quite well the front, resisting with an impressive ease to Momoshiro's assaults.

"30-0."

"Heh...What is going on with those two? Weren't they panting a minute ago?" Eiji asked, sulking.

"Maybe that was a part of their strategy." Fuji said. Then, turning to the one at his left "What do you think, Inui?"

"Kamio and Ibu seem to have overcome the trouble in their coordination. And now that they have the serve in their hand, I think they will certainly try to break Kaidoh and Momoshiro's play."

"Hum, so that's why Ibu keeps containing Momoshiro's smashs so he would be forced to play long balls..." Oishi said.

"...and Kamio can take Kaidoh off-guard." Fuji whispered aloud.

"40-0." was the new score announced.

"Ah This is getting bad." Eiji whined.

It was true the situation was getting out of control. Momoshiro was turning back to his restless self, along with his shots losing their precision. Kaidoh's temper was raising little by little: the frown on his face had never been so deep and the grip on his racket so feral.

"Four games to three. Change court."

He watched as the two players wordlessly walked to the opposite side of the court, not even looking at their side. Screams and shouts raised from the worshipping crowd as the players resumed the match.

"30-0." was announced after some minutes.

"Again?! This is so annoying, why couldn't we play?!" the acrobatic player complained.

"Eiji, you shouldn't be saying things like that. Instead, why don't you encourage Momoshiro and Kaidoh. They are most likely to be our successors afterall." Oishi interviened.

"Myeah...I know..." the other player answered, pouting.

Fuji smiled, amused by the situation while Inui's mind was focused on the match.

"40-0."

None of the two players was moved, Inui noticed. They had lost all their facial expressions.

Momoshiro positioned himself close to the net as Kaidoh withdrew at the rear.

"Is that some kind of 'Australian Formation'?" Kawamura asked.

"Hum...I've never really seen this kind of pattern anywhere. Maybe they made it on their own?" Oishi mused out loud.

"Well, I don't think they did. I don't even think it's a Formation."

"Fuji is right. It looks more like they are turning back to their solo work." Inui put in.

Eiji promptly jumped in the discussion.

"Heh? Individual double? That's not double at all..."

"Maybe, but that's the way they play double." Fuji stated, a small smile on his lips.

"40-15."

Inui sighed and wordlessly took his notebook out of his pocket.

It was time to gather some more datas.

7

He passed a hand in his hair and laid down in his chair, the warmth of the room gaining him.

It was still snowing outside, not profusely as the day before though. He was glad he didn't have to train today, for it was certainly freezing outside.

He smiled at the image that jumped his thoughts, the image of a Kaidoh in shorts doing footing under the falling snow. He was aware of its ridiculousness, but it made sense in a way, for Kaidoh was the type of person who would do something so reckless.

But he Inui had taken care of everything. He had made clear to the Year two never to put his health at risk just to improve, because in the end he might lose everything.

He adjusted his glasses on his nose.

And his advices had paid. Seigaku had won the Sophomore-Freshmen Tournament, beating Fudoumine, St Rudolph and Jyousei Shonan players.

He remember how stunned they had been when Ryuzaki-sensei and Tezuka had announced none of the Year three of the team would be playing. Fuji had only smiled, Kawamura had taken the news as calmly as usual. Only Eiji had sulked for the rest of the practice that day. As for himself, Inui had barely raised an eyebrow. He had been much more interested in how Momoshiro, Kaidoh and Echizen would deal with their opponents both in singles and doubles.

It had been a tiring experience for the three players. First because they had had to play everyday against different opponents and in a different type of play. But there had also been the immense pressure of the tournament: with Seigaku been the district champion the three of them had to win in order to show that the team's strenght didn't rely only on their sempais.

As Double, Echizen and Momoshiro had done miracles, doing the impossible by beating the Tanaka brothers of Jyousei Shonan. Eiji had jumped really high that day and both Fuji and Oishi had had to prevent him from choking Echizen in a dreadful hug.

And there had been that incident with Mizuki. It had been right after Kaidoh's match against Fuji's brother. The match had started all smoothly, but soon Kaidoh had taken the lead, and along with the Boomerang Hadoukyuu, his new move, the Diving Snake, had been destructive. Yuuta had had neither the strenght, nor the speed to react to such powerful and subtle techniques.

And he hadn't been the only one caught off-guard.

Inui particularly remembered Oishi wondering how come Kaidoh could have mastered such a complicated move in such a small amount of time. He also remembered that very knowing look Fuji had given him as everyone went to congratulate the Year two.

That was when Mizuki had come to them, his usually steady step unsteady, his calm face unable to hide his resentment. Fuji had asked him what was wrong, and he had ignored him. He had glared at Inui, and said that never in his life had he suffered loosing twice against the same person. He had also spat various words about sly unfair training methods and revenge being some cold dish.

Inui sighed at the memory.

He couldn't reproach Mizuki for being mad. Everybody knew Fuji Yuuta was Mizuki's protégé, and it wasn't impossible that the latter had heard of his training with Kaidoh. That was the reason why, in a way, Yuuta's defeat against Kaidoh was also Mizuki's defeat against him. Another defeat it seemed he couldn't bear.

But maybe he was taking things too dramatically.

He straightened up and turned to the window.

The sky was clear and the wind had stopped blowing as hard as before. The leaves were resting on the immaculate carpet made in snow threads, preventing the naked trees from catching a cold in their hibernating. And no one dared to wake them up, for the alley was silent, like the long forgotten lane of an old manor's garden. And when a bird flew through the slight opening of his window, looking for a small corner in his heated room, Inui was glad to have a companion for some time.

7

The door silently closed as sound of steps echoed in the cool breeze.

No student chatting in the entrance of the building. No teacher stalking along the corridor. No class at all.

Today would be the last time. The last time he would step in this place. The last time he would see these two buildings that had somehow scared him three years before, when he had entered Seigaku High. This massive concrete, those small windows, those narrow corridors, he had loathed them ever since the beginning. They made school look like a prison in which he was to be incarcerated for three years. And it was so big he had feared he might lose himself at some corner.

He closed his eyes as he mentally scanned the area, and the vision of every single room of the place became alive in his head without any effort from his part.

And he couldn't understand why he had been scared in the first place: it was just some random school like thousand of other one across the country. Like the others, it welcomed hundreds of students every year, it instructed them for three years before releasing them in the outside world. It helped small boys and girls to become fine young men and women, it helped them to find their way in thousand and thousand possible paths that existed for them: Mathematics, Physics, Languages, Literature, Art, Sport...those were the dishes of the Great Menu of Life they could pick up anytime they wanted, according to their taste of the moment.

No, Seigaku had never been the terrible being he had though it would be. It had been a good mother to him, teaching him how to live a young boy life, how to live among people of his own age and befriend them and get attached to them. It had teached him how to live a passion and how to share this passion with other people, other people that had become his friends and maybe more.

So there was no way he could hate the place. It was a part of his life, and like a giant photobook, every single windows of it carried a special moment of those three years. This window at the second floor on the right, how many times had he looked through it during his English class as a Freshman? And that one on the third floor, it reminded him of that time he and the other regulars had spent a dreadful time worrying about a Tennis racket and the curse it was thought to carry.

Certainly today was the end, otherwise he wouldn't be thinking about all this.

He resumed his walking, passing close to the announcement board, closing the black gate behind him.

"You are a little early." he said to the waiting figure.

"I know." The deep voice answered.

"I suppose you already guessed why I called you there for...right?"

The other nodded. Then, after a thoughtful look crossed his face.

"Why?"

"Why we have to stop?" Inui asked.

"No. Why did you start to train me in the first place?"

"Oh..." he adjusted his glasses. "Because you have talent."

Kaidoh's usually hard expression softened as he lowered his gaze.

A loud pause.

"Ryuzaki-sensei asked me to be Seigaku's vice captain."

Inui smiled inwardly: it seemed that once again their coach had taken note of his suggestions.

And he wasn't the only one to think that Momoshiro and Kaidoh as captain and vice-captain was the best combination for the team's sake. Momoshiro was someone very sociable and easy to get friend with, which could prove really reassuring for any newcomer. He had a something special that, for some reason, made people attracted to him and that made them both trust and respect him no matter what. But what a team also need is a strong figure, someone that has enough charisma to impose himself naturally to the others, without it being strange at all. Kaidoh had that very kind of aura. And even if somehow, he and Momoshiro were rivals to the point of getting into serious fights from time to time, they knew they could count on eachother everytime, without even needing to ask for it. With those two being the new official pair and the leaders, it was certain Seigaku's Tennis Team was to become stronger and more powerful.

But right now, the difficult part was to make the two of them acknowledge this fact.

"I see. What did you say?"

"I...have to think about it."

He smiled.

Kaidoh hadn't rejected the proposition at once. This was very good news, considering that he had always hated, or rather pretended to hate to see his name associated with Momoshiro's.

The Year two frowned at the expression on his senior's face.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." was Inui's flat answer.

"Hn."

A beat.

"University is not close by." Kaidoh said finally.

Inui perfectly knew what the statement implied. So he decided to give the year two the informations he was silently asking for.

"An hour or two by train is not that much, and we get a lot of free time."

"Tennis is a part of University program?" the Junior asked, intrigued.

"I am not going to play Tennis at University."

Kaidoh's eyes widened.

"And I don't think I'll be playing anymore."

The Year two turned to look away, his jaws clenched. Then his head jerked on the left as a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Don't take it like that, I had decided this a while before I started to train you. I just can't play Tennis anymore, but it doesn't mean I've lost interest in it."

"...Were you injured...?"

The uncertaincy and the bitterness in Kaidoh's expression was so obvious Inui felt he had to do something.

"No. But it doesn't matter. Kaidoh, I already told you why I trained you. You have talent, and that's the difference between you and me. You have to keep playing Tennis, for the next year as Seigaku's vice-captain, and for the other upcoming years. Become a professionnal, play as many matches as you can, don't waste that powerful source in you, and I know you won't because you are shaped in will and determination." He paused. "As for me, I'll be watching you from my coaching bench."

Kaidoh only nodded, his expression dead-serious.

"Well, see you around."

"Hn."

He walked away, his step never so steady.

He was glad he had finally found a way to say what had been on his mind for so many months. Kaidoh was the first to know, he would tell the others later in the week...though he was pretty sure Fuji suspected something.

"Inui-sempai..."

Sounds of steps ceased on the pavement.

"Thank you for everything." Kaidoh said, bowing low.

Inui simply turned away and resumed his walk.

A self-satisfied smile broke out of his lips.

Certainly one day that boy would blossom into a beautiful player.

THE END

_To those of you who reviewed._


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